Chapter 10 - Wings of Lies

A shuffling noise startled me, and the flames on my hands heightened.

“Oliver?”

The shuffling continued, followed by a pause. The setting sun darkened the forest’s shadows, hiding everything within. But my eyes never strayed, searching for any movement, every sense on high alert. A soft pressure pulsed behind my eyes at the slight chance it wasn’t Oliver. But it had to be.

“Oliver, come on. We’ve been through hell. Stop joking around.” My voice carried through the chirping crickets.

Then all noise quieted.

“I’m safe. I’m not a wimp. I’m safe,” I whispered to myself. “It’s just Oliver.”

But the silence of the forest reminded me of the Powers. What if they found us? Oliver’s story was wishy-washy to begin with. He had a concussion, and they knocked me out with a lightning bolt. There was no way he got us away that easily while injured.

What if they only let us get away to give us a sense of security?

My bright flames flickered around my hands, nearing my sleeve. “Oliver, come out.”

Minutes passed as I stood with every muscle tense, waiting for the air to change, for Oliver to pop out, but not even the breeze crinkled the tops of the trees.

Why was he hiding?

A few seconds more, and nothing.

I huffed, dropping my shoulders. “Lucy, you’re such a damn scaredy cat,” I muttered to myself. The pounding of my heart quieted with my easing muscles. The needles returned to their horror house beneath my skin, releasing me from my white flames. I took a hesitant step, my head turning back and forth. Still, nothing moved. Before I bent over to search Oliver’s backpack for matches, an ear-piercing wail wrenched through the stillness.

My horror house of needles surged, tearing through my insides to the surface of my skin. I screamed, hunching into myself. White light burst free, overtaking the black spots that attempted to take over my vision. It layered my naked torso in flames.

With my flame illuminating my surroundings, I could see further into the forest, but the thing didn’t show itself. Instead, it wailed for a second time. My flames jumped.

The thing shuffled closer to the edge of our campsite.

I backed up a step. It shuffled closer, slower this time, like it was taunting me. My white flames pulsed with more light as the thing in the forest played with my nerves. Its noisy steps edged the line between the shadows and light. I could almost make out the outline of the dark figure as it stood there, watching, waiting.

Frozen, I didn’t know what to do. The fire coating my skin remained useless until the thing came closer.

I swallowed down my suffocating breaths, trying to calm myself. But it wasn’t working—it never worked. I pawed at my neck, frantically searching for my amulet, and felt my flaming hand hit my chin. I froze. But, of course, I was immune to burning from my power.

The thing wailed again and stepped into the clearing.

I was going to die. After everything I had been through, I was going to be mauled by this creature from hell.

Dark slime dripped down its gangly human limbs as it crouched on all fours. Spikes along its spine shuddered with the movement, readying to charge. I couldn’t see its nonexistent face. Inky sludge covered it. No nose. No mouth. No eyes. Just a creature sent straight from my nightmares.

Breathing heavily, I slowly stepped to the side. One more step and the tent would no longer be at my back. Then, I was going to run. On my final step, it flexed its finger-like claws and bolted.

A pulse resonated through the air as I tried to scream. But I couldn’t with how hard I panted. White light surged toward the creature about to maul me with its spindly claws. The pressure behind my eyes throbbed. I wanted to squeeze them shut to relieve the pain but couldn’t take my eyes away as my flame shot toward the creature. Right before it made contact, the thing disappeared. My dangerous energy hit the tree behind it.

Flames consumed the bark and leaves. The once large tree disintegrated into particles of glowing ash and fell into a small pile of soot. A dark silhouette stood next to it, partially hiding behind another tree.

“Please don’t kill me, Lucy.”

I froze.

“Oliver?”

“Yeah?” he squeaked, coming into the cast of my light.

One tree—one tree stood in the way of killing Oliver. Whatever power I unleashed was fast. There would have been no way to pull my flame back.

“Are you completely insane?” I screamed, waving my hands around. “What the hell were you doing behind that tree? I almost burned you alive!”

He nodded down to my breasts. “You know you’re naked, right?” he said, unfazed.

I whipped my arms up to cover myself, feeling heat spread from my neck to my forehead. “There—” I glanced to my sides. “There was this thing!”

Where did it go? It blipped out of existence and hadn’t come back.

Oliver’s mouth pressed down into a frown. “About that…” He ran his hand through his hair, laughing nervously. “So… that monster thing. With the drippy mud skin and creepy limbs… yeah, that might’ve been me.”

“You?”

“Yeah, well…” He laughed again. “After I hunted for our food, I thought about how I would teach you, and my first thought was to see how you’d fare against an attacker. To get a baseline of your powers.”

I nodded, biting my cheeks. Hard

“Didn’t know you’d do that…” he trailed off, sheepish.

I nodded again. That was all I could do was nod. My cheeks were raw with how hard I bit into them. Oliver admitting to scaring the living flame out of me to test me was smart but incredibly asinine! That pile of dark ash beside us could’ve been him.

“Lucy, are you okay?”

My skin would’ve been itching if I didn’t feel like I was about to fall over or asleep.

Guilt tugged at the creeping smile on his face, and I lost it again.

“You are insane!”

I couldn’t believe him. I didn’t know what I could do, which may be another reason to test my powers. But not on him! Not on anyone. My powers were too dangerous.

“I’m not trying to make you scream at me for a fourth time, but do you think we can have this fight after you put on a shirt? It’s hard to take you seriously when your boobs are out.”

Gritting my teeth, I stomped away from him.

I put on my jacket, realizing the back had a large hole. Damn it. It was my last piece of clothing, so I had no other options. At least it covered my chest and had a soft inside. Although, a bra would’ve been nice. Too bad I incinerated it because of Oliver’s thoughtfulness.

I stomped back to Oliver and the fire he made. His head tilted up from whatever he was working on in his lap.

“I’m sorry, Lucy, for almost killing myself in a crazy plan. I deserve the glare you’re giving me.” It was hard to tell if his apology was sincere with the half smile that twitched on his face. He picked up a skinned, impaled rabbit, balanced it on two sticks over the fire, and then patted the ground beside him. “I think I figured a couple of things out.”

“Tell me and explain the monster thing you did.” I crossed my legs, the loose material rustling as I moved. My numb, shaking hands hovered near the fire, warming. Moments ago, the chilly air didn’t affect me. Now I was freezing.

“What’s the main emotion you feel before your white flames pop out on your skin?” he asked.

“Fear.”

“And what about your purple flames?”

“Anger.”

“Good. Those are your baselines. They are the emotions that control you and your power, which is normal for a beginner. As kids, Nephilim get a feel for their powers using their baselines. Then they learn real fast that they can’t rely on their emotions forever, or they’ll hurt themselves or someone else. With the amount of power you just threw at me, you will have to learn fast. Use anger and fear to coax your flames to the surface for now, then as you dive into your well of power, study what happens and break the emotional connection.”

Easier said than done.

Oliver noticed my expression. “We’ll practice in a second. But first, I think I know what your white flames are.”

“What?” I asked, excited.

“I think they’re your Glory. An Archangel’s Glory, in fact. I’ve experienced it before. Funny story⁠—”

“No, no funny stories. What are you saying? You think I’m an Archangel?” I knew nothing about them, shocker. But I had hoped the word would spark a familiar nudge. My brain did that sometimes. It nudged at me like it was trying to make me remember something.

“The pure white glow, crazy consuming heat, and the force are exactly the same as their Glory. So yeah…” he said, trailing off at my glare.

“I don’t know, Oliver. What if I’m a Nephilim with Glory?”

He snorted. “Even if a Nephilim has a father who is an Archangel, they don’t pass down their Glory power. That’s a specific power to them.”

I rubbed at the ache in my chest, almost wishing I would’ve been left with different memories. Something that didn’t pull at my gut every time I saw her face. Something that didn’t leave me on the edge of my seat, thinking the worst but hoping for the best.

“But what if I have a mom?” I whispered.

Oliver stared at me, mouth shut, wheels turning in his squinting eyes. “Do you?”

“She’s one of the memories I kept,” I ran my finger through the dirt, swallowing. “I saw her, surrounded by, I’m not even sure who. It was dim, and they were wearing uniforms. I wanted to help, to protect her, like she always did for me. But the moment I decided to join the fight, something forced me out of the house.” I laughed, though none of this was funny. “That’s the only memory I have of her.”

Equally as quiet, Oliver asked, “But how do you know she’s your mother?”

“I just… I felt it,” I said, touching my chest.

Oliver scooted closer, giving me a knowing smile. “Family doesn’t have to share the same blood. You can still be an angel and have a mom.”

“Aren’t angels created? Like they blip into the air fully grown or something.”

He nodded, taking the rabbit off the fire, cutting it apart, and divvying up on a set of plates. “Yes, they are. I’m not sure about the blipping full-grown part, but I’d assume so. Angels are hundreds of years old. So, who knows?” he said as he handed me one and a wooden fork.

The peppery and herbaceous aroma of the meat made my stomachache. I was more than ready to sink my fork into the sizzling goodness. But before I did, I said, “I think I was born.”

He gave me a strange look. “Are you sure you lost your memories? Because it seems you know more than you’re letting on.”

“No—I—” A fluttering sensation tickled my mind. “I was born. I don’t know how I know that or why the thought came to me now. But it’s true.”

He took a bite of his rabbit, chewing slowly. “It’s just… Nephilim don’t have Glory. It’s unheard of. Although Archangels or any other types of angels don’t have your purple flames.”

“Other types?” I asked, taking a large bite of my juicy rabbit.

He set his fork and half-finished plate down, sighing. “Okay, let’s rehash the whole angel hierarchy.”

I couldn’t tell if Oliver was being sarcastic or if he was eager to speak on the subject.

“There are six levels of angels with the Seraphims at the top. I haven’t seen one and probably never will. Nor do I know anyone who has. The amount of power and rule they have is, well, they’re at the top for a reason. The next highest are the Archangels.” He motioned to his imaginary ladder. “A warrior-type angel. They are scary. In a, I will enact my justice in a burn-you-to-bits-with-my-Glory kind of way. Like you.”

I swallowed, looking down at my food.

“Some have an extra power specific to them, which makes them extra scary. They are also… How would you say it nicely?” He tapped a finger against his lip. “Stuck-up assholes and stone-cold killers. Dominions are under them. They are still ruthless assholes, but they have sick telekinetic powers and keep the other angels under them in line. Then there are the Thrones, which are more of a scholarly type. They like books. A lot of books. We already had a run-in with some Powers⁠—”

“Which you have yet to explain how we got away from.”

He rolled his eyes.

Was he purposefully avoiding the subject?

He continued, ignoring my questioning look. “We ran into an earth and sky elemental.”

“Sky isn’t an element.”

“No, but it’s a class within the Powers. A sky elemental is someone who has the power over wind, rain, and lightning. I guess you could say thunder, too. Which means she is most likely a colonel,” he explained.

She, as in he saw who they were. Is, suggesting they still lived. “Colonel?”

“A military ranking. Pretty high up there,” he shrugged like it was no big deal that Oliver went up against a Power who had control over three elements and ranked high in their military.

“How’d we survive?” What tale could Oliver even tell that I’d believe?

He ignored me, focus glued on the fire. “Virtues are the last level. They are also part of their military but do more healing than fighting. Not that they can’t. I’m pretty sure every level of angel is trained to fight. They are the most level-headed and friendly. Not that that’s saying much. For some reason, all pure-blooded angels act like they have a stick shoved up their asses, unlike us, the Nephilim half-breeds who are above the disgraced Fallen and other manner of supernatural creatures. And that wraps up the short overview of the angels.”

“How, Oliver?”

“My powers, Lucille.”

He hardly ever used my full name. And never in such a severe tone. Whatever he did, whatever powers he used, he didn’t want to talk about it. We were safe, and I was pressing too much. I needed to let it go for now.

“Your powers have aspects of an Archangels. Even your healing is accelerated. That blast that incinerated the thick tree should’ve knocked you out after all you’ve been through. A Nephilim would’ve passed out or died.” He stared at me, fire flickering from the emerald depths of his eyes.

“So, you’re convinced I’m potentially a stone-cold killer with a stick shoved up my ass?”

He snorted, breaking his moment of seriousness. “I’m saying your memory isn’t reliable; you almost killed me twice now, at times have murdery eyes, have Glory, which only Archangels have, have accelerated healing— more so than a Nephilim—and can potentially have a mother that isn’t blood-related. That’s what I’m saying.”

Was I an Archangel? But I didn’t blip into existence. I was born and raised by my mom, not a ruthless Archangel. If that were the case, then I would’ve been able to protect her. Oliver said angels were all trained in their military. If I were one of them, I would’ve never cowered behind a corner, hesitating to protect the only person I loved.

Oliver, noticing my internal battle and wrongly assuming my thoughts, said, “Blood doesn’t matter when it comes to love.”

“I know.”

He gave me a weak smile, then stared into the fire. “I had—I have a sister who isn’t blood-related to me. Not with her inky dark hair and olive skin.”

Entranced by learning something personal about him, I listened to his soft words.

“I remember when my mom brought her home. She was so tiny and cried way too much. But sometimes, my mom let me hold her, and she’d stop crying. She’d look up at me with her dark eyes and stare. Only with me, though. She didn’t talk to my mom at first, and I was too young to ask why or where she came from. I just remembered liking that I was no longer an only child, and she liked me more.” An inner light lit Oliver’s face. Not joking, not moody, not the mischievous smirk he frequently wore, but a genuine smile. It was the first one I’d ever seen grace his face.

“What was her name?” I asked.

“Melanie. But I called her Lainy.”

“Called?”

His smile dropped as he rubbed his scar. “Marcus took her a long time ago.”

“Why? Where’d he take her?” But I had a sneaking suspicion that I knew where. “You think she’s in Elora, in the Tenebrous Kingdom?”

I knew nothing of Elora, but Oliver associated Marcus with that kingdom. A lackey, he said, meaning someone worse was above Marcus pulling the strings. But if Marcus kidnapped angels for his sovereign, why was I caged on Earth and Oliver’s sister taken to Marcus’s kingdom? Unless kidnapping, and drugging to the point of uselessness was the first step before he handed me over to his sovereign in Elora.

“You’re sure she’s there?”

“I know she is.” He kicked at the fire again, then abruptly chucked his plate and barely eaten food into it.

I swallowed. “How?”

He glanced at me—his expression filled with guilt, anger, and glassy pain. “My mom kept us sheltered on Earth. She never liked to talk about my father, only telling us the bare minimum of what we were. Maybe she would’ve explained more when we were older, but she never got the chance.” He turned away, not elaborating. “I grew up in foster care, such a joyful experience. Instead of picking fights like any normal, abandoned kid would, I dove headfirst into research about angels and Elora. They thought I was crazy. When I was old enough, I figured out how to travel to this different world, but I still never found her. It wasn’t until I became desperate enough that I made an associate.” He dropped his head, rubbing his wrist. “After years of me floundering, they helped locate her,” he said, voice cracking. “Years, only to learn that my sister was being kept in an impenetrable kingdom.”

I poked at my bones and the little bits of meat I no longer had the stomach for. “Do you think he took my mom there?”

Oliver jerked to look at me. “That’s why you want to go to Elora. Not just for answers, but for your mom.”

I nodded. We acknowledged each other, connecting on a shared understanding of want and pain. Then, something flashed in his eyes as he turned away.

Compassion? Guilt? I couldn’t tell.

“It’s possible. He had you. But not knowing what or who your mom is, I don’t know why he’d take her.”

“Why’d he take Melanie?”

Oliver quieted. Bringing up her name did a number on him. “Power,” he finally said. “My mom had an angel friend who was a seer. She saw that my sister would grow into another powerful seer. Somehow, the Tenebrous Kingdom must’ve found out.”

“So, my mom might be an angel they kidnapped for her power?”

In my memory, her eyes flashed purple, and something forced me outside the house. So Oliver could be right. Maybe my mind was so muddled that I thought I was born, when, in reality, I was an angel, and my mom wasn’t my biological mom. The thought did nothing to temper my love for her, but it did increase my guilt for my ineptitude.

Oliver nodded. “Maybe. Or she’s in the Ethereal Kingdom.”

“Why would they kidnap her? Are they better or worse than the Tenebrous Kingdom?”

“Depends on who you ask. In my opinion, both kingdoms could burn in hell. The Ethereal Kingdom is filled with all those purebloods with sticks in their asses. If your mom happened to piss off the wrong high-ranking angel, they could’ve taken her as easily as Marcus could’ve.”

I dropped my head into my hands. “That’s helpful.”

“Do you remember anything else?”

“The uniformed soldiers kept flashing between white armor and blood-red leather. Does that mean anything?”

Oliver snorted. “Yeah.”

I perked up.

“White or light blue armor is what the Ethereal military wears. Red is what the Tenebrous Kingdom wears.”

Damn it. “That sure narrows it down.”

“When we get to Elora, what kingdom will we be in?”

“Neither. We’ll be in The Divide.”

I laughed. It wasn’t a humorous one. Not when exhaustion and a throbbing pain pummeled my head, back, and feet. “Which is?”

“A place between the two kingdoms. Neutral territory.”

I shook my pounding head. I was about to ask if he knew who Magda was, but my eyes fluttered, and I didn’t think I could retain anything else.

“You’re drained. Go to bed before you topple over into the fire. I don’t feel like seeing if you’re fire-proof tonight. We can practice your power tomorrow.”

I sighed, standing on wobbly legs. “Yeah. There’s just so much I don’t know.”

When I started toward the tent, I heard a soft. “There sure is.”

The moment I saw my sleeping bag, I flopped and fell asleep.